Critics and Celebrities
by Valarious
Summary: During the Fortune City outbreak, Frank West must confront a famous dancer he reviewed poorly in the past, something she has not left unforgotten. A short story based on Off the Record.


**Dead Rising 2 Off the Record, it's characters, settings and anything else belongs to Capcom and anyone else associated with it. Clarissa Basille is an OC by me.**

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><p>It was the third day of the Fortune City outbreak, and Frank West was quite honestly tired. Along with rescuing survivors who refused to follow him to safety unless he carried out their crazy requests, he had fought several equally crazy psychopaths, from a bullied tiger handler to an insecure Western-obsessed security guard. Compared to them, the zombies were a lot easier to deal with.<p>

Over the earpiece he'd been given days before, C.U.R.E leader Stacey Forsythe, who was monitoring the city's cameras chimed in with an update.

_"Frank, you'd better get to the water bar in the Palisades, there's a woman in a red dress ranting to people, they look tied up."_

Inwardly he sighed, "Got it, I'll check it out." His fight the previous day with the Bailey twins was fresh in his memory and wasn't looking forward to encountering any more lunatics.

Dodging zombies and a few looters along the way, Frank quickly travelled to the Palisades Mall using a convenient if somewhat questionable shortcut a fellow survivor had shown him, leading into a clothing store on the first floor. Cautiously he moved to the walkway's edge and peered to his left, towards the small pool area in the centre of the mall.

Through his camera Frank could see a distinct figure in red standing apon the dry part of the pool's upper level, pacing dramatically in front of several other survivors, including what appeared to be an unfortunate looter. Frank quickly made his way down from the first floor and to the pool area. He suddenly stopped when he reached the top of the steps.

"...and you all had the gall to think I wasn't worthy, well we shall see who's truely unworthy," said the bronze skinned woman before him, her back turned. She wore an exquisite scarlet red dress which displayed most of her back, nearly extending to the floor. Noticing her audience's attention was elsewhere she abruptly turned around and narrowed her eyes apon seeing Frank, an angry snarl escaping her.

"_You!_" she announced with venom, pointing an accusing finger at Frank, "I remember you..."

Matching the back the front of her dress was also open, exposing her neck and most of her rather large bust and her abdomen. Matching her look were dark red thigh-high heeled boots, the tops of them and her underwear hidden by her elegant dress. Her raven hair was tied into a neat ponytail and her strong, dark brown eyes bore into Frank's.

"Well I am memorable," he offered trying any charm he could muster. _This never goes well_ he thought defeatedly.

"Frank West, the most _ignorant_ Philistine to ever disgrace the aura of my presence, you who spat on my name! Just like so many others!" her exotic accented voice was filled with indignation and offence. Frank quickly remembered just who she was; Clarissa Basille.

Her face had been plastered on posters all over Fortune City as the Scarlet Lady, the world-famous flamenco dancer and singer, and one of the biggest celebrities in America. As her own success grew she became more than just a dancer, she became a national icon of sorts. Always in the spotlight, always demanding and claiming perfection. And God help anyone who dared to criticize her performances, or even just herself. She was notorious for what one critic coined "extreme goddess complex", demanding everyone's full attention on her and complete perfection, treating everyone else as inferiors.

After losing much of his own wealth Frank had reluctantly been present at one of her previous performances a few months back, and unlike other critics had been unafraid to express what he truely didn't like about it. "Look lady," he began.

"Not enough that you attempt to degrade my performances with your musical ignorance," she cut him off, "you stole my performance arena for your own savage and pathetic attempt to rise to the levels of individuals such as myself!"

"Oh God!" cried one of the captives, a young man in a blue hoodie who was clearly close to breaking down. "You gotta help us man! Please help!"

"SILENCE!" she yelled, turning her attention to him and wielding a modified flashlight, "Not only do I lose my rightful place in this pitiful city's grand arena to a disgusting death-glorifying, peasant-pleasing excuse for a show, my inadequate to-be replacement stage is lost in this zombie outbreak! But I will have what is rightly mine!"

"Look lady," Frank tried again, "I'm sorry your show was cancelled, but it's not safe out here. You've got to let these people go. There's no need to lose anyone else."

"Lose anyone else? I've lost my pride!" she near-shrieked. "Thrown aside as if I'm nothing more than an diseased dog found on the street, all for the savage likes of you! I shall deal with all my critics, starting with the one who insulted me most of all!"

She thumbed a small button on the flashlight and a steady beam of red light shot through the gems that had been embedded into the end. Frank made a quick dive as she swung it at him, only just dodging it. The steps where he had been standing were now stained by a blackened burn. Frank grimaced as he remembered she was also an accomplished swordswoman.

"It is time...for the performance of a lifetime! Let the show begin!"

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><p>The battle that had ensued was extremely exhausting. In spite of the fact Clarissa wore high-heeled boots she ran extremely fast, hardly tripping at all whatsoever. At one point Frank had seperated himself from her using a large crowd of nearby zombies. With swift grace and agility she seemingly danced through the lot of them, slicing them with her laser sword as if they were nothing but butter.<p>

"How the hell did she make a laser sword!" he exasperated, ducking to avoid a throwing knife. "Oh you've gotta be kidding..." he threw himself forwards to avoid two more knives that followed it. He looked back and saw her doing a dramatic pose, holding both her arms wide open as if embracing the sky. Being a photojournalist the impulse to snap a quick photograph was too great to ignore. With a click he captured her pose clearly and mentally cursed himself.

"Frank," called Stacey over his earpiece, "there's a-"

"Not now!" he cried running for cover. He'd lost the piece of piping he had to zombies and was frantically looking for another weapon, scanning each store as he did. He retreated to the first floor, where apon passing the antiques store he noticed some gems. Thinking quickly he picked up as many as he could before proceeding to the nearest maintenance room, which thankfully held a batch of flashlights.

"How'd you do this," he muttered. He secured the gems over the light and turned it on, apon which nothing happened. He then tried removing the glass that kept the bulb inside safe, and apon flicking the switch a green beam of light appeared. He gave the laser sword a quick swipe through a nearby lawnmower, which promptly fell into two pieces.

Satisfied he found a powerful weapon he returned to the rest of the mall.

_"THERE YOU ARE!"_ yelled Clarissa, an indication she had found him. Frank looked to the source of her voice and saw her directly opposite him outside the diamond store. She tore her way past several groups of zombies ridiculously fast and Frank had barely avoided being hit by her laser sword. He drew his own and attempted to strike at her, but was blocked by the red sword.

"You have _GOTTA_ be kidding me!" cried Frank as Clarissa's face contorted with rage.

"Smile for the camera Frank!" she taunted, striking at Frank again who managed to block her. Frank's mind cast back to all the other sword fights he'd been in. Sean Keanan, leader of the True Eye cult during the Willamette mall incident used a sword, Frank however had used a gun to defeat him. The Bailey twins of the Terror is Reality show, and TK's co-conspirators of the Fortune City outbreak also used swords. He'd used anything he could get a hold of, and by the time he had defeated Crystal he hadn't needed to use her sword to defeat Amber, who had taken her own life after losing her twin. In short, swordfighting was completely alien to him.

A sudden surge of pain shot across his stomach as her "blade" made contact with him. Unlike with the zombies the light wasn't powerful enough to even pierce the human body with just one hit, but it still burned and hurt like a bitch though and enough to knock him backwards.

"Is that all you have Frank West? For someone who labelled me Worst Act of the Tournament, you're performing abysmally."

The battle between the two continued for the next half an hour, sometimes Frank would manage to get a hit, othertimes a swipe from her sword or a swift kick would send him crashing through a nearby store window. Eventually his sword had stopped working, that coupled with being very exhausted he was on the verge of losing. He stood close to the railing that stood between him and the ground floor. Clarissa approached menacingly and grinned a sadistic smile.

"And now...my worst critic meets his end. Poetic justice wouldn't you agree?" she asked, then she sprinted towards him and made a heavy swing with her sword. Frank however had anticipated her move and crouched, grabbed her and using her own momentum threw her off over the railing. Her body slammed against the hard floor and a pained grunt escaped from her while her laser sword clattered away.

"Urgh...you...cannot win...against me!" she began muttering. The sound of shuffling quickly met her ears. She looked up and saw several zombies shambling toward her with savage hunger. Her eyes widened and she struggled to stand as the undead hordes surrounded her.

"No! I am Clarissa Basille! I'm an icon! Get away from me!" she pleaded uselessly, the zombies however did not listen and she screamed. After her screams were cut short, Frank shook his head and walked away to help her captives.

"I guess the critics ripped her apart," he quipped to himself.

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><p><strong>A short<strong>** story I know, but I hope you all enjoyed it. This idea came about when I noticed some of the posters near the Fortune City cinema advertising Flamenco dancing, and since Frank stars in Off the Record I thought of a new psychopath he could encounter based on that. Originally she was supposed to take up Bibi's place on the Slot Ranch Casino stage, but then I thought she'd be angrier if she never received this new stage. Her battle music was hard to find at first, but after listening to Blue Stahli's Anti You I think I found it. Check it out and let me know what you think, as well as opinions of this story. Reviews, constructive criticism are welcome :)**


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